


Seven's Song

by allamaraine



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-21
Updated: 2016-05-21
Packaged: 2018-06-09 17:57:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6917398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allamaraine/pseuds/allamaraine





	Seven's Song

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aerialsky](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aerialsky/gifts).



“Samantha Wildman.” 

 

Samantha jumps, dropping her PADD. She is still not used to Seven’s approach, her sudden appearances and blunt manner of speaking. Without missing a beat, Seven bends to pick up the fallen tablet, then, one eyebrow raised slightly (In what? Judgment? Amusement? It’s hard to tell with Seven sometimes), hands it to Samantha, who takes it with a warm smile. 

 

(Samantha! She called her Samantha, not Ensign. Curious. A personal call then?)

 

“Thank you!”

 

“My apologies. I did not intend to frighten you.”

 

Samantha waves it off. “Oh it’s all right. Did you need something?”

 

“Yes. I would like to invite you to dinner.”

 

“Oh!” Samantha blinks. “Seven, you don’t have to feel obligated if -”

 

“There is no obligation. I enjoyed our last meal together.”

 

“You did?” She can’t hide her surprise. Their previous dinner had been… well, to be honest, it had been awkward. Not the worst dinner Sam has ever had, mind you - Naomi definitely helped fill in the conversation gaps and provided the two women with common ground, but poor Seven sat stiff as a board the whole time. And the Doctor! As part of his “curriculum” for teaching Seven social skills, he had provided her with a list of suggested topics for conversation which reminded Sam too much of her first week at the Academy, all those getting-to-know-you games. A question and answer session, not a naturally flowing conversation. All in all, Samantha had gotten the distinct impression that Seven was uncomfortable and had only come because Naomi was the one to ask. 

 

Clearly, Samantha has a lot yet to learn about Seven of Nine.

 

“I did and I wish to further our acquaintance.”

 

Samantha offers her another smile. She may be surprised, but she’s not opposed. Not in the slightest. Seven is very important to Naomi, so she’s important to Samantha as well. “That sounds lovely. What time were you thinking?”

 

“Meet me at 1900 hours, in Cargo Bay Two.” And as an afterthought: “Please.” 

 

“I’ll be there. Thank you for inviting me.”

 

Seven gives a sharp nod. “You’re welcome, Samantha Wildman. I will see you this evening.” Then she turns on her heel and strides down the corridor with great purpose, leaving Samantha to stand alone with her PADD. Where was she going again? Right. To the lab. 

 

~~~

 

Clutching what appears to be a bottle of wine, Samantha is prompt in her arrival that evening and she finds she does not have to wait long at all for Seven to open the door. Not enough time to let her nerves get the better of her. This is the first time she’s visited Seven in her quarters - because that’s what the cargo bay is for her, or the closest thing to it at least. The thought makes Sam a little uncomfortable. It’s the only place they can fit a Borg alcove, yet it feels wrong. The crew was already suspicious enough of Seven - and indeed, some still were - that her living down here seems to further isolate her from them. 

 

Some would argue that she doesn’t mind, of course she doesn’t, she’s Borg, but it’s clear from how much Seven cares about Naomi that she craves social connection just as much as the rest of them. And thus… this dinner.

 

“Good evening, Seven.” Notably Seven has dispensed with her biosuit for the evening and is instead wearing a simple short-sleeved tunic the color of eggplant over black pants. The style of Seven’s outfit, Samantha thinks, is remarkably similar to the style of clothing the Captain wears when off duty, which makes her smile. Clearly, Seven admires Janeway a great deal but then, they all do. 

 

“Good evening, Samantha Wildman.”

 

Samantha gives a soft laugh as she steps inside the cargo bay, the doors swooshing shut behind her. “You don’t have to call me that, you know.”

 

“It is your designation.”

 

“True, but just Samantha is sufficient. We’re not at work, after all, this is a social occasion, and we are friends, aren’t we?”

 

Seven tilts her head, considering this. After a moment, she nods. “Samantha.” She says the name slowly, as if gauging how it feels to say it. “Yes, I believe we are friends.” Then her gaze falls upon the bottle in Samantha’s hand. She raises an eyebrow, a silent question.

 

Samantha holds it up. “It’s traditional, among humans, to bring a beverage when someone invites you to their home for dinner.” 

 

“I appreciate the gesture, Samantha, but I do not wish to be intoxicated.”

 

“It’s not alcoholic! It’s called sparkling cider. Naomi loves it.” Though it’s not too often she can save up enough rations to replicate a bottle. Just for special occasions. 

 

“You may set it on the table,” Seven says, gesturing towards the center of the room with a sweep of her hand.

 

Samantha turns her attention to the area indicated.  Seven has set up a makeshift dining room in front of her alcove, using packing crates and artfully arranged fabrics and pillows. The table is already set with plates, utensils, and glasses, but no food yet. Samantha sets the bottle in the middle of the table. “I like what you’ve done with the place. It looks homey.”

 

“Thank you. It was the Doctor’s suggestion that I decorate.” With the tiniest hint of a smile, she adds, “I believe his advice on decor has proved to be much more beneficial than his advice on conversation.”

 

Samantha smirks. “And people say you don’t have a sense of humor.”

 

“What people say is irrelevant.”

 

Samantha’s expression is full of curiosity mixed with a little concern as she looks at Seven. “Do you really believe that?”

 

“I do: how someone perceives me does not change who and what I am. Therefore, it is irrelevant.”

 

Sigh. “I wish my skin was as thick as yours.” Though she can’t help but wonder if Seven is truly as impervious to gossip and stares as she seems. 

 

“In this regard, our physiologies do not differ. My skin is two to three millimeters thick, which is average for a human. I am surprised you are unaware of this, given your expertise.”

 

Samantha bites her lip, trying not to laugh. “Seven. It’s an expression. When we call someone thick-skinned, we simply mean that they withstand criticism well, that they aren’t easily upset by what others say.”

 

“I see. I do not understand humans’ persistence in using colloquialisms instead of simply saying exactly what you intend.”

 

“I…” Sam opens her mouth, then closes it again. Hmm. It’s a good point, and not one she has a good explanation for. “I don’t know, for sure - you’d have to ask a linguist - but if I were to take a guess...”

 

And so, the conversation goes, flowing much more smoothly and naturally than it did before. Seven especially seems more at ease, not holding herself quite so rigidly. Perhaps it’s the benefit of being on home turf, so to speak. Or perhaps it’s just a matter of time. Either way, Samantha is relieved - and as they continue their discussion on language, she’s believes she’s coming to a better understanding of Seven. Verbal communication is a lot harder for her than Samantha fully realized. Even for most humanoids, even the telepathic species, their primary form of communication is verbal, but for Seven, she’s spent most of her life in a collective, where everyone’s mind work together as one - there’s no need for verbal communication among the Borg, unless they are disconnected or are talking to an unassimilated individual. While Seven retained the basics of the language she knew as a child, as Annika, she still had so much to learn and at age where it’s much more difficult to absorb new languages. So much of what other humans on the ship take for granted is not obvious to her. It’s no wonder then, that she seeks an easy-to-follow set of rules, like the ones the EMH offers her. Now, finding that Samantha is happy to provide her with answers, Seven can’t stop asking questions. Why do they say this and what does that mean and that is completely illogical and - 

 

“Seven! Seven!” Samantha says, laughing and holding up her hands in surrender. “Slow down.”

 

“I am sorry. Do you wish to switch to another topic?”

 

“No, this is fascinating! I’m just worried I can’t keep up with all your questions. Biology is much more my realm of expertise, you know.”

 

“Nevertheless, you have been most helpful.” She looks at the bottle sitting on the table. “Perhaps I ought to pour us drinks?”

 

“I would like that! What else have you planned for tonight?”

 

Seven twists open the bottle cap and answers as she pours the light amber liquid into their two glasses. “I remembered at our last dinner, you spoke of your father’s mac and cheese, how it was your favorite food even now. I cannot claim to be the cook that your father was, of course,” she hands Samantha her glass. “But I have been practicing, with the help of Neelix.”

 

Samantha’s eyebrows go up in surprise. “Really? I didn’t know you were interested in cooking.”

 

“It is a… useful activity. The crew needs to eat and eating, I have observed, provides most people with enjoyment as well.”

 

Samantha smiles. “Well, I think that is wonderful! And if you need a guinea pig, I’m your woman!”

 

“A guinea pig?” There’s a pause, as Seven searches her memories. “A species of domestic rodent, belonging to the family Caviidae. I do not understand.”

 

“Scientists used to use guinea pigs in their experiments.” She smiles apologetically. “Another turn of phrase I don’t give much thought to using. Point is, I’m not much of a cook myself, but if you would like someone to taste test your recipes…”

 

“I would appreciate that.” She takes a sip of her drink and oh! “This is quite pleasant.” 

 

Samantha grins. “I’m glad you like it. To tell the truth, I like it better than real wine, myself.”

 

“It is -”

 

Before she can finish her sentence, however, they are interrupted by the sound of an explosion, which rocks the ship. Samantha stumbles, but Seven, steady as a rock, reaches out to catch her before she can fall. Samantha nods her thanks and straightens up, just as another explosion reverberates throughout the ship, followed by the blaring klaxons signaling a red alert. 

 

_Never a dull day_ , Samantha thinks grimly. First things first: she hails Neelix, who is babysitting Naomi. Once she’s reassured they’re both okay, she and Seven move to start securing the cargo, working with a practiced efficiency to carry fallen containers to their appropriate locations before they each take a computer console to bring up the force fields as quickly as possible before they are hit again. Successful in completing that task, they grab a pair of phasers and make for the nearest turbolift. Seven will be needed in the engine room while Samantha will make for the medbay. Ever since Voyager lost its entire medical staff when they were pulled into the Delta Quadrant by the Caretaker array, Samantha had been pulling double duty as in the labs and in sickbay. With her degree in exobiology, she was the closest thing the EMH had to a nurse, especially now that Kes is gone. 

 

Unfortunately, as soon as they enter the turbolift, the ship his hit once more, this time causing a power failure, which brings the turbolift to an abrupt halt. Samantha curses under her breath, then shoots Seven an apologetic look. Seven accepts it with equanimity, not even arching an eyebrow.

 

“Mommy?” Naomi’s voice comes over the comm, small and scared-sounding. 

 

Samantha’s eyes go wide with alarm but her voice remains steady as she answers her daughter. “I’m here, honey. It’s all right, you’re going to be all right, just stay with Neelix.”

 

There’s a pause before Naomi responds, but they can hear her shaky breathing on the other end. “Neelix… Neelix won’t wake up.”

 

Seven and Samantha exchange a look. Seven nods sharply before reaching up to work open the panel on the ceiling of the turbolift. Samantha, meanwhile, attempts to contact sickbay. No response. The pit of worry in her stomach grows. The EMH never fails to answer - unless something has happened to take him offline. She tries the bridge, to no avail. It'll be up to them to get to Neelix. She shakes her head to clear it before calling Naomi again.

 

“Naomi. Seven’s with me and we’re coming for you right now, so I’m going to need you to stay calm for me, okay?”

 

Another shaky breath and her voice comes out as barely a whisper. “Okay.”

 

“Ensign.” Seven reverts instantly back to formalities in a time of crisis. She sets the panel on the ground, then squats and cups her hands to give Samantha a boost up. 

 

After Samantha climbs up into the turbolift shaft and helps pull Seven up behind her, she says to Naomi, “Honey, we’re going to have to do a lot of climbing to get to you, but I’m going to leave my comm line open so we’ll be with you the whole time and I’m… I’m going to sing to you. What song would you like to hear?”

 

“The rainbow one.” Naomi sniffs, clearly trying not to cry.

 

Samantha smiles sadly. Over the Rainbow. Naomi’s favorite - and one of hers too. She takes a deep breath and climbs onto the first rung of the evacuation ladder to begin their long journey up to deck three, where the Wildmans’ quarters are located. After a few moments of climbing, she begins to sing. Her voice is untrained, yet there’s a soothing sweetness and clarity to it. Rainbows and bluebirds fill the turbolift shaft as they continue up the ladder, rung by rung, Samantha desperately hoping that that last hit was it, that Janeway is successfully fighting off their attackers, protecting her crew as she always does. Always, always, in times like this, there’s that worry that their luck won’t hold out any longer and that Naomi will never get to see Earth, never get to see Ktaris or her father. In many ways, the singing helps her as much as it does Naomi.

 

_I’ll only be gone a few weeks._ That’s what she had said to Greskrendtregk. He was worried about her going into the Badlands, chasing after the Maquis. _Only a few weeks._

 

When she reaches the end of the song, she simply starts again. Only this time, another voice joins hers: Seven’s. Samantha misses a few words in her surprise - she didn’t know Seven could sing and so beautifully at that - but quickly catches up, her own voice becoming stronger with Seven’s help. 

 

Two and a half renditions of the song later, slightly out of breath but no worse for the wear, they finally make it to the doors of deck three. Samantha scrambles onto the ledge, followed by a much calmer Seven, who then proceeds to force open the doors, a task that would have proved more difficult for Samantha, who lacks the Borg's superior strength. Samantha makes to enter the hallway, which is also functioning on back up power, but is stopped by the restraining hand of Seven. Right. They don't know what's happening or if the ship has been boarded. And, Samantha realizes, they stupidly did not bring a tricorder, only their phasers - and no doubt, the singing would have only brought attention to them. 

 

Fortunately, superior strength is not the only thing Seven is endowed with thanks to her Borg implants: her senses of sight and hearing are more highly tuned than that of a normal human's. She steps cautiously out into the corridor, phaser raised and her senses on high alert for any other signs of life. Once she feels it is safe, she motions for Samantha to join her and they start down the hall, moving as quietly as possible. It's eerie, how lonely the ship feels, without the ever-present hum of its systems running and without a single other soul in sight. The latter is more concerning to her. Even with all crew at battle stations, surely there would be someone else on this deck, someone who hadn't made it out before that last hit. Nerves on edge, she keeps expecting something terrible around the next bend. Ironic, she thinks, how the presence of a Borg is what's making her feel safer. 

 

As it turns out, they have nothing to fear. Samantha’s comm chirrups. 

 

“Chakotay to Wildman.” Chakotay. Oh thank God. 

 

“This is Ensign Wildman, Commander.”

 

“What’s your location?”

 

“Deck Three. I’m with Seven and we’re going to my quarters. Naomi reports that Neelix is injured and we could not reach sickbay.”

 

“The Doctor’s mobile emitter was damaged in the attack. Lieutenant Torres is working on it now.”

 

“Will he -”

 

“She assures me he will be fine.”

 

Seven interrupts. “Commander, may I ask what happened?”

 

“It seems we’ve hit an old minefield that our scans missed. Apparently whoever placed these here had some sort of cloaking technology. We received a message from a nearby planet, warning us, but it was too late before we were hit. They’re sending ships now to help us with repairs. In the meantime, stay where you are and keep us updated on Neelix’s condition.”

 

“We will,” Samantha assures him. 

 

“Chakotay, out.”

 

They reach Samantha's quarters safely and as soon as Seven gets the doors open, a tiny figure comes barrelling at them. Samantha drops her phaser, squats down, and opens her arms up to her crying daughter, who buries herself in Naomi's chest. "Mommy I'm scared!"

 

Samantha gently strokes Naomi's hair. "Shh, shh, honey, I know. But we're here now, nothing's going to get you, I promise." She looks up at Seven to find a strange look on the Borg's face: regret, it almost seems, and maybe a little envy. It's unexpected and Seven must see Samantha's surprise, for she quickly adopts her usual stoic expression.

 

Samantha pulls back from Naomi, so she can look at her. Naomi’s face is all red and blotchy but she is trying very hard to not to cry. “Honey, where’s Neelix? I need to go take care of him.”

 

Naomi sniffs, wipes her nose with the back of her hand, then points in the direction of the dining area. Samantha kisses her forehead. “My brave girl. Can you sit with Seven while I look at Neelix?”

 

Naomi nods solemnly and Seven comes over to take her hand. “Come, Naomi Wildman.”

 

“Seven? Will you sing again?”

 

Seven looks to Samantha for some sort of confirmation. Samantha nods encouragingly, so Seven agrees, taking Naomi over to a corner of the room away from where Samantha will be working. Naomi crawls into Seven’s lap and listens quietly while Seven starts to sing quietly. 

 

Neelix lies on the floor by the table. From the way he’s positioned, Samantha thinks maybe he was tossed out of his chair and knocked his head on the table as he fell. Fortunately, there’s no open wound or blood, just a small bump on his forehead, and she can see from the rise and fall of his chest that he’s still breathing. Kneeling, she takes his wrist to check his pulse. It’s slow, but that’s normal for a Talaxian. Next, she needs to hunt down her tricorder and hope that it hasn’t been destroyed. 

 

It takes a few minutes of frantic searching to find the tricorder. The door to the cabinet where the tricorder usually lives has flown open and their quarters are a mess: books and equipment and toys everywhere. Eventually she finds it, unbroken and functioning perfectly, under a spare uniform and brings it over to scan Neelix. Though the scan lasts barely even thirty seconds, Samantha holds her breath. To be honest, if there’s a severe brain injury, there’s only so much she can do: make sure he isn’t moved, perhaps put a cold pack - if she can find one - on the swelling, and wait until the Doctor is available. Scanning, scanning, and then…

 

Neelix’s eyes flutter open. “Samantha?” Though with his drowsy mumbling, it sounds more like “Mumanna?” 

 

“Neelix! Try not to move too much.” Samantha consults the tricorder and lets out a sigh of relief. He’s okay. He will still need to see the Doctor when he can, since he did pass out for a while, but nothing they can’t wait for.

 

For once, Neelix listens to her and stays put. His eyes close but he’s still paying attention. “What song is that?”

 

“Hmm?” Oh. Only now does she realize what tune Seven is singing. “It’s an old Earth song. You Are My Sunshine.” 

 

“It’s nice… I like it. Very soothing.”

 

Samantha smiles. “Me too.” She looks around, finds a pillow on the floor, and carefully tucks it underneath his head. “You need rest.”

 

His eyes fly back open again. “Naomi!”

 

“Naomi’s fine, she’s fine, she’s right here.” 

 

Abruptly the singing stops and there’s the sound of little running feet. Evidentially, someone heard their name called. “Neelix!” Naomi flings herself down next to her mother. After a moment’s uncertainty, Seven joins them on the floor as well, albeit much more sedately. “Neelix, you wouldn’t wake up and I was so scared!” 

 

“I’m very sorry Naomi.” He reaches out to squeeze her hand. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

 

Naomi nods. “I know you didn’t. But Mommy and Seven and me are here, so you’re going to be okay now.”

 

“The three best ladies on Voyager.” He winks. “Only don’t tell the captain I said that.” Neelix’s chuckle turns into a wince. 

 

“I won’t!” promises Naomi. 

 

Samantha pulls her into her a hug and kisses the top of her head. “How about we all sing to Neelix, hmm? I bet that’ll make him feel better, until Aunt ‘Lanna gets the lights back on.”

 

“Okay! Can we sing Seven’s song?”

 

Samantha looks over at Seven, who gives one of her very rare, very small smiles. Seven says, “I believe that can be arranged.” Seven starts them off, then Samantha joins in, and finally, Naomi. Soon both she and Neelix are asleep and it’s just Seven and Samantha, but they don’t stop, not until the lights return. 


End file.
